Didn't I Tell You
by Ninnik Nishukan
Summary: It's New Year's Eve, and Shego's convinced that 2008 is going to be a lousy year. Drakken/Shego.


**Author's notes:** I started this story months ago, but never quite had time to finish it. It was supposed to be for New Year's Eve, and now it's…not. Call it a late winter fic, then. It's gratuitous fluff, nothing more. A good ol' "blanket scenario". Not my best work, but whatever. Barf if you want, just be sure to bundle up if it's cold where you are. It's definitely cold here in Norway.

**Big thanks to oldandnewfirm, **who gave me some advice when I was stuck.

* * *

**Didn't I Tell You**

Ninnik Nishukan

* * *

_This is the worst start to a new year ever_, thought Shego. _2008 is definitely gonna suck_.

Then she said it out loud, because she had no reason not to.

It was a testament to how bad things were that the Doc didn't immediately whip around in his seat and send a gazillion gigawatt glare her way.

No, at first she heard a groan, and then he slowly directed a sullen, heavy-lidded scowl at her across his shoulder. He didn't even bother turning around.

"If there was a bad decision to be made?" Shego continued, without much of her usual snappy sarcasm. "Yeah…then you pretty much made it. Made all of them."

Drakken pouted, his shoulders sagging. "It's not like _you_ didn't make any mistakes."

Shego resisted for only a couple of seconds, before giving a shrug of concession. "You know what? I'll give you that one."

Mistakes had been committed on both sides all year, in fact. It was just that the mistakes made since the start of summer, after the invasion, had been…quieter, subtler.

He blinked at her. "Seriously?"

Again, she shrugged. "Mmm. Sure. I'm an adult."

_Oh, so __**now**__ you're an adult? Since when? _

Defying the snarky self-assessment, she turned it outwards. "But I _did_ tell you that staying up all night to finish the plan was a bad idea. Your ability to concentrate was at pretty much _zero_. Look at you, you can barely keep your eyes open. You look like road kill."

His mouth turning down in a wounded line, he crossed his arms protectively over his chest. "You're not exactly a basket of fresh fruit yourself right now, Shego," he grouched.

Scoffing, she combed her tangled hair out of her eyes with her fingers. She knew her eyeliner and mascara was probably smudging across her cheeks and temples. On top of not getting much sleep herself, they'd been caught in what practically amounted to a blizzard. But who cared what she looked like to him, anyway? What they looked like to each other. Who cared.

"You know, I bet you flunked at _least_ one test in college because you pulled some ridiculous all-nighter and fell asleep during," she drawled.

Drakken felt his cheeks burn. Damn her. She always knew, didn't she? Flopping back against his seat, he tightened his crossed arms and hunched up his shoulders, as he was certain he could feel her grinning at the back of his head. He tried to force his concentration over on the clouds and mountaintops zipping by.

He'd wanted to…do something. Prove something. Make something attention-grabbing. Now that he'd already gotten the attention of the world last summer, though, he supposed he should be asking himself who he was trying to impress. Considering how things were, he preferred not to think about it too closely.

The giant fireworks had probably been another mistake.

"But I'm kinda glad you installed this advanced auto pilot in the hover car, and…you know, this handy dandy glass dome…shield roof thingy," she said after a moment, rapping her knuckles briefly on the bullet proof glass surface. "Otherwise we'd have probably started the new year as pizza toppings for some cliff wall somewhere. Or possibly in jail."

Shego yawned, then, and just before she closed her eyes to doze off for a while, she caught him flashing her a tentative smile.

* * *

When she woke him up later to tell him they'd arrived, he felt delirious. His eyelids were more or less glued shut as he grabbed his bag and stumbled out of the hovercraft after her, shivering with the cold weather.

He'd elected for them to stay at the reconstructed Alpine lair. He'd figured it would be perfect to have a nice, snowy January after his mother had dragged him to Hawaii for Hanukkah while Shego had buzzed off to Aruba for about a week, to do…whatever she did during the holidays. Now he regretted the new lair location with all his heart.

Actually, he regretted a lot of things.

Because now, everything was the same and…_not_ the same, at the same time. If that even made any sense.

All he wanted was to crawl inside some sort of warm cocoon and stay there for a week.

Shego put her arm up to shield her face from the freezing wind as she walked. _Snow, ugh. _She'd wanted a warm Christmas, and not the kind you got from sitting in front of the fire. That was her usual reason for ditching everybody who might care to have her around— in favor of palm trees and sunny beaches. Her brothers always wanted a traditional holiday celebration, as did Drakken.

So when Mama Lipsky had suddenly visited to invite him to spend Hanukkah in Hawaii, and he'd turned to look to where Shego had been sitting, reading a magazine and pretending not to be listening to the conversation, things had turned…awkward.

His eyes had been large and uncertain, and suddenly it had felt like she didn't have any excuses. Hawaii was warm and tropical and offered plenty of extreme sports, and it would have taken her away from her brothers, even if it would also have included spending time with Drakken's mother. And truth be told, she hadn't even booked a vacation yet.

But there had been…the eyes. The eyes that had been asking questions that his mouth couldn't form. There had been the fact that things hadn't turned awkward all of a sudden— nope, they had only turned _more_ awkward than before.

And then there had been Mama Lipsky, somehow catching on, or at least assuming she was catching on, and abruptly asking the questions nobody had wanted to hear; all of them at once. Shego had muttered some hastily fabricated excuses, turned down the unexpected invitation, and had gone to her room to book her solo trip.

That must've been why, later, when he'd been so enthusiastic about having an 'evil winter wonderland' for their new lair after an 'unseasonal tropical holiday', she couldn't find it in herself to object.

After a while of slow, unsteady walking, he felt Shego grab his sleeve and start to drag him after her. He didn't have the energy to stop her. Anyway, he'd most likely been just about to sleepwalk off the mountain or something. And judging by how slowly they were still progressing up the short path to their front door, she had to be almost as tired as him. There was no use in arguing.

Even if part of him did want to tell her to grab his hand instead. To point out that the last time he could remember being treated like this was by his mother, when he was seven. That holding his hand instead might be treating him less like a child and more like…something else. But he supposed that was just how they'd always done it, pulling at sleeves or wrists. Treating each other like disobedient children or petulant teenagers. And it would probably continue on like that indefinitely.

* * *

"Oh. I forgot." Shego said this in a hollow sort of voice, just after the front door had closed heavily behind them. "Another one of your bad decisions."

Forcing himself to open his eyes, Drakken squinted against the light of the lair. There was a pause. Then he wailed, thrusting his bag above his head one-handedly, as if cursing the skies through the ceiling.

The lair was still a chaos of half-reconstructed furniture and science equipment, as well as a jumble of cardboard boxes – all varying both in size and degree of how poorly marked they were.

"Trying to take over the world before we'd even finished moving?" She released a heavy breath, letting her bag drop to the floor. "That's…yeah."

Against all odds, a dormant deposit of angry energy crackled through him. He flung his bag aside. "Do _not_ say I told you so! You know I wanted to start afresh! It was to be _symbolic_! 2008 was going to be the year of Drakken!"

"Who's even got the…energy to say I told you so?" Shego was actually slurring a little now. "I'm just trying to remember…where the heck we put the boxes with all the bedding."

Drakken stopped, gave her a wide-eyed look of utter despair, and then dropped his face into his hands. He had no idea where anything was right now. And considering how chilly it was in here…he hadn't even remembered to turn on the central heating, had he? Oh, who actually remembered things like that when they were in the middle of attempting world dominance? That was what minions were for. Competent ones, anyway. Then again, even competent minions needed orders.

"I can't sleep on the floor, Shego," he muttered. "Not now. Not after all this. Not in this cold."

"Oh, great." She brushed some of her hair out of her face with a limp gesture. "Now you're telling me it's up to me…to fix everything. Or else you're gonna break down and cry."

"I never said—"

"It was _heavily implied_. You're obviously just given up, right? Well— I dunno— I guess… at least we've got a couch."

"A couch," he echoed warily.

"It's right over there, look." She pointed, barely even keeping her arm up for a second, before it flopped back down to her side.

"_One_ couch," he said, giving her profile a guarded look; wondering how she figured the logistics of these resources would work. Would it end with her getting the couch (most likely) or him getting the couch (fat chance)? Or could she possibly mean…sharing? Well…it _was_ cold, right?

She shrugged. "So maybe we'll find the other one. Or a bed. Or maybe even two beds."

Ah. So a fourth option, then. Ignoring the vague and brief sense of disappointment, he proceeded to yawn so hugely that he thought he could hear his jaw pop. "Shego, the thought of searching for _anything_ right now is just—"

"You think I'm not tired, too? We wouldn't be in this mess if you'd just listened to me and postponed the world conquering until after we finished moving." She rubbed briefly at her eyes. "But no, you wanted _symbolism_—"

"We were supposed to take over the world!" Drakken threw his hands up in protest. "We _should_ be staying at a luxury hotel right now, or the White House, or something! _Slaves_ should be assembling our furniture and unpacking our boxes!"

Unbalanced for a moment, she paused, wondering what sort of plans he may or may not have had for himself, her, and a luxury hotel, but the question was too big to ask, she was too tired, and the current, cold reality wasn't anything remotely like a luxury hotel.

"I guess that's why you didn't bother to leave us any time to turn on the central heating or buy any firewood, either." Her voice withered.

He was so used to her criticism, every time he made grandiose plans, not to mention used to how it always stung a little, but now, this time, the cut just felt…deeper, somehow, as if he'd failed at something basic. As if he'd failed in his role as some sort of…provider or…or care…giving person, which was ridiculous, because she didn't need— and they_ certainly_ weren't—

Heat squirmed in his gut. "_Bother_? It's not about— I just forgot! I forgot!"

She was taking charge and trying to fix things, which was hardly the first time, but for perhaps the first time, it felt like it wasn't because he'd failed in taking over the world, but simply that he'd neglected his part in building them a home.

She gave him a long, tired look. "Whatever. At least I made us pack these overnight bags, since you were so darn sure we were gonna win and spend the night in a palace or something, so…I'm gonna go wash my face and brush my teeth, okay? I suggest you do the same. Then we can find something to sleep in, or on, or whatever. January second, we'll call the henchmen to carry and unpack. They get New Year's Eve and January first off, remember?"

He glowered at a pile of boxes, before he grudgingly bent down to pick up his discarded bag. Part of him wanted to thank her for being her usual practical self, what with thinking of packing the bags in the first place, but he started wondering what it meant that she considered these very specific things— that she looked after— and the words seemed to stick in his throat. "Nothing ever works since they got organized," he complained instead.

"Nothing worked _before_, either," Shego muttered, as she wandered off to her private bathroom.

* * *

"I can't go on. It's the middle of the night. I can't search anymore."

"Neither can I, but I have no choice, have I?"

"Sheeegoo…!"

She swore she could actually feel the veins in her forehead twitch, even if she'd been sure she was now so exhausted she was past the point of caring. "You know what? The second I find a blanket or something, I'm gonna leave you to search on your own. I can't stand whining. It's not like I'm not about to collapse, too, just the same as you."

That did the trick. Drakken immediately forced himself up from where he'd been sitting slumped on the floor, and glared at her. "Leave me on my own, huh? Not if I find a blanket first! And I'll beat you to the couch, too!"

"What are we, six years old now?" Shego retorted acidly. Somewhere along the line, she'd started…expecting more from him, expected him to act more like an adult, and more like part of a team, and it bothered her more than she liked when he didn't live up to it. Since when had her standards risen when it came to him?

Even so, she thought, grinning tiredly as she watched him scramble for bedding, messing with him could still be fun. Honestly, he was such a doofus.

"I wouldn't be a _bit_ surprised if that were the case," Drakken sniped back, his nose in the air, as he drew a box towards himself on the work bench, which had been left in the middle of the living room, next to the couch. "I mean, if you were to have somehow had your brain switched with a child sometimes. Or maybe if you were channeling him or her, receiving some kind of frequency, from a different dimension…tuning into your brain waves…"

She rolled her eyes as she moved on to the next box. This one was marked "Tuesday". She had no idea what that meant in this context. It might even be left over from the last time they moved. Or the time before that. "Okay, _wow_…ramble much? You _really _need to sleep, don't you?"

He gave her a sour look. "You _think_?"

Ignoring him, she used her sharp gloves to slice open the tape holding the "Tuesday" box closed. A smirk spread across her face.

"Jackpot!"

Drakken stopped rummaging through his own cardboard box and blinked at her. "Excuse me?"

"Paydirt," she said, triumphantly holding up a big, fluffy down comforter and a matching pillow.

He rushed over. "Great! Where's the rest?"

She shook her head smugly. "This was it. And it's mine."

He found he couldn't argue with that. The green diamond pattern made sure the issue of ownership wasn't up for debate.

His face fell as he watched her saunter across the floor to the couch, humming under her breath. After a minute, she had made herself quite comfortable, wrapped up under the thick cover…her head resting on the soft, generously sized pillow, her mass of long, dark locks half tucked in, half spilling across it…

He gave the cozy scene a wretched look of longing for a moment, before forcing himself to keep up the search. It had to be around here somewhere, if she'd managed to find hers…

When he'd gone through his seventh box, he was about ready to plop down on the floor again and whine, but nobody would listen, and he couldn't spend the night like that. He'd turned on the central heating on his way to the bathroom, but a place this big would take hours to get warm. If only he'd still had that darn Electron Magneto Accelerator to "pimp" the central heating system with…they could've had more or less sauna-like conditions in here already.

Now, the lair was cold enough that his plants were still in hiding and refused to help him search, and Shego had gone to bed without even changing into her pajamas.

There was only one thing to do, pride be damned. It was either that, or to start burning his own possessions in the fireplace— which, come to think of it, was out of the question, considering he had no idea where they were currently keeping their matches and lighters, or even their flamethrowers. And the odds of Shego getting up again to light a fire for him with her plasma powers had to be exactly a gazillion to one. He wasn't even sure that glow of hers _could_ light a fire, as much as _obliterate_ the entire fireplace.

He made his way over to the couch with reluctance. "Shego…? Are you still awake?"

"I wouldn't be…if _somebody_ would stop throwing and moving stuff around…and muttering every ten seconds," she murmured, sounding like she might've at least been dozing off a bit. "And didn't your mommy teach you it's supposed to be lights out for beddy bye time?"

Grimacing, he staggered across the floor to the row of light switches on the wall. Pushing a few buttons and turning a few wheels, he turned out all the lights except the lone floor lamp in the corner, which he dimmed.

As he went back, he braced himself. He hated begging. "Okay, Shego, the lights are out now, so…_please_."

To his horror, though, she didn't even bother opening her eyes. "Please what."

He drew a breath, trying to form a probable way to suggest what he couldn't possibly suggest, but ended up with: "Give me the comforter, Shego."

"No."

"Oh, come on! Please?"

"No. Way."

She thought she heard him utter something like a sob of frustration. "Shego! You already have the couch, so at least give me—"

"What good is the couch…if I have no cover?" She yawned softly. "I'll freeze."

His spirits fell further as he watched her draw the comforter even further up, to cover her chin. If she fell asleep, and he was forced to actually wake her up, he'd lose any chance for mercy. "Shego…!"

Her brow wrinkled with a hint of anger. "Oh, _what_?"

_Desperate measures_, he thought. He had no other option than to follow his first, scary impulse.

"Th-then…let me in," he half-whispered, bending down. Her cheeks, which had been red from the cold earlier, still held an appealing, pinkish glow. This close, her dark nest of hair shimmered like duck feathers in the lamp light.

"What?" She blinked, and then finally looked up at him. He was hovering over her now, each hand planted on either side of her head, his teeth chattering.

His eyelids and shoulders sagged, then, his forehead contracting in misery. "I'm cold! Let me in, let me under there…!" he leaned closer, his breath on her face.

He could be so intense at times. She often wondered whether he knew.

Her stomach clenched as her breath mingled with his. "So what now? You're just…going to keep _bothering_ me until I—"

"Shego, please, just let me _sleep_," he interrupted tightly, his hand sliding down to grip her left shoulder above the covers.

Shego gave an explosive sigh, looking away in defeat. "Fine, okay, I guess you can—"

She couldn't even finish speaking before he'd kicked off his boots, peeled back the comforter and wriggled his way under it and in next to her on the fairly narrow couch, clinging to her like a baby monkey. Not only did he glue himself to her side and throw his arm across her, but he even wound his leg around both of hers.

She could only lie there, stunned and stiff as a log as he, shivering and grunting with cold and impatience, proceeded to stuff the comforter back into place until they were wrapped up like an overstuffed burrito. His sense of physical boundaries had always puzzled her. Sometimes he'd be jumpy and prickly, giving her a wide berth, a cold shoulder and dirty looks, and sometimes he'd be as enthusiastic as a puppy.

Finally done, Drakken sighed. He was still shivering, but at least now he was safe under cover. He'd be warm and toasty in no time. And he'd definitely be asleep in less than two minutes. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this run-down. And the weight of her felt lovely against him, soft yet solid.

Shego swallowed. "Umm…"

Drakken kept his eyes closed, praying there wouldn't be another fight. Maybe if he pretended to be asleep, or possibly dead…

"Dr. D, this is kinda…intimate."

That assessment, and the odd, almost thick voice with which she delivered it, forced his eyes open. In his freezing desperation, he hadn't even considered that he might be overdoing things.

"Is…is it?"

His voice rumbled against her ear, low and slightly hoarse, and again, she swallowed. "Could you just…your leg," she gritted out, trying to put a warning behind the words, but worried they came out sounding breathless rather than threatening. Everything of his was surrounding her; arms, legs, scent, breath, voice, gradual warmth. All at once, he was closer than he'd ever been.

Gingerly, he withdrew his leg from around her, as best he could in the limited space. Then he waited.

When she said nothing, he softly cleared his throat. "I guess I appreciate the fact that…I'm not currently finding myself halfway across the room and on my way towards unconsciousness."

Shego tsk'ed, her shoulders descending again. "It's fine. I know how you don't _think_, sometimes."

"Oh, that's nice." Drakken directed a pouty scowl at the vicinity of her eyebrows. "You always know _exactly_ what to say to cheer me up, after yet another resounding defeat."

"I try."

"Hrrmmphh."

There was a stretch of silence as they started to settle down. The overstuffed burrito grew steadily warmer and cozier.

"You know?" Shego murmured drowsily. "This actually feels…almost kinda good."

Now there seemed to be an abrupt, dull kind of jolt or thump going through his throat and chest. "D-does it?"

"Hmm? Does whuh?"

"Uh, you said…uhm. That this feels good. What we're…doing."

"Oh. Whatever." She sighed and turned slightly, nuzzling into his neck in a lazy way that made him wonder just how aware she even was of the action. "By the way…happy new year, Dr. D."

His brow rose. "So now it's…_not_ the worst ever?"

She shrugged one shoulder. "Yes and no."

His heart felt like somebody was squeezing it. Or possibly that was his lungs. His face tingled where her breath fanned across it.

As he rested there, watching his breath mist in the cold room, Drakken decided that he was old enough not to care about schoolboy nerves. Or maybe it was just because another year was beginning and the world was unforgiving and crazy and you needed to grab what you could get. He tended to get nothing.

Either way, it took so little simply to shift his head and let their lips brush each other.

Shego paused at that, slowly blinking, and trying to consider her options. _Hey,_ _you could always headbutt him_, her brain offered. But mostly, she just thought,_ Well, Dr. D, whaddaya know… _

When she made a soft, sleepy sound and gently pressed her mouth and body further up against his, he decided to linger.

"Happy new year, Shego," he finally whispered. "And thank you."

Shego nodded, not knowing what exactly the thanks was for, but accepting it as a general gesture for the last few days. She licked her lips with languid contentment, already drifting off. If the Doc could get it together like this after months of avoiding awkward conversations, if he could actually do something unexpected when even _she_ couldn't…well…

It might be an okay year. It might be a little bit different.

**The End.**


End file.
